Then One
by SyrenHug
Summary: Tennis used to light something up inside of him. Used to carry him on when he was angry and depressed and people couldn't stand him any longer. It used to make him important.


I know it's been awhile. And I think everyone for the continued support of my work. It honestly brightens my day. You all are my Faves. ㈍9

With this fic ends my postings on ffnet. My ao3 is on my bio. I'll be editing my works/deleting. I'm working on my original work which will be there (under a pen name) and on fictionpress. My tumblr is on my bio as well. Come request fics. I need all the inspo I can get.

this is dedicated to my friend ato, who im incredibly angry at right now. and meadow who im also upset with. and ciel, who I adore. no matter what, you three are my family

Warnings: none.

Note: This an AU where polyamory is just known and cool with everyone. Fuji is ooc because it's an AU and this is how he'd be if he wasn't a total buttface.

* * *

><p>1<p>

He wakes up to Keigo lying on the other side of the bed and, for a second, he can imagine Syusuke is in between them with his mouth parted and hands twisted together underneath his body.

The visual does something to his breathing, though. So he puts it away.

His boyfriend's eyes slip open - the slide of it too easy for him to have just woken - and stares at the space in the middle thoughtfully.

"What time is it?" He asks, finally, hair matted in several different directions. If only his fans could see him now. They'd probably scream and blather about how they loved him despite his faults.

Ugh. Fans.

Ryoma shrugs.

"The clock is right next to you."

"That's nice."

A hand stretches across, right where Syusuke's nose would have been, and curls into his hair. It doesn't hurt, but he can feel the stretch of it in his forehead and it puts some fire in his veins.

"Fuck, dude. This isn't right. I'll call the police on you." He's grinning, though, and Keigo's eyes are wide and blue. Laughing at him.

"They wouldn't believe you. I'm Atobe Keigo."

The thought is almost a little scary. Not that his boyfriend would ever hurt him, but if he did, they'd probably be more in favor of the celebrity among them than Ryoma.

_You're a celebrity, too, Ryoma,_ Syusuke would say. But he isn't there, and it isn't like anyone actually believed it.

"Hey." The grip on his hair loosens. He looks over.

"Yeah?"

"Don't think about it."

So he doesn't.

* * *

><p>-2<p>

When his hand is taken by cold, slender fingers, he snorts.

"Gay."

"Finally coming to terms with your preferences, Echizen?"

"Don't even start that." Syusuke warns and they shut up.

The restaurant is small and cozy, somewhere in between his love of simplicity and Keigo's desire for luxury. Syusuke always knew the best way to draw them together, instead of sliding them farther away.

Keigo's fingers are sprawled on the back of his chair. Maybe he would be flattered if it wasn't a patented move for the cameras. He hates the falseness of it all.

Syusuke takes a bite of salad, head tilted to the side in a way that has his hair sagging into his eyelids. He looks every bit the lead singer of an indie band that has a tight, devoted fan base.

"Don't frown. Someone could be falling for your smile."

He tries. But Keigo's grimace lets him know it fails. So he goes back to whatever he was doing before.

"We have an interview in a couple of days." Syusuke states. He groans.

"Why?"

Keigo sips on his green tea. Shrugs. "Publicity, what else?"

"Do I have to be there?"

They both look at him.

"What?"

"Why wouldn't you be there?" Surprisingly, it's Keigo who asks. Ryoma looks at the silverware, even though he's already checked to see if they were clean. Twice.

"I'm not exactly famous, am I?"

"Ryoma."

"Fuck, I mean, I'm not crying over it. I'm not mad. I just don't understand why it matters, why I -" He starts to finish. But both his boyfriends are giving him that Look, and he just shakes his head and leaves.

Syusuke meets him outside the restaurant. He looks sad. Ryoma hates that he did that.

"Hey," He breathes, leans up a little to kiss him, soft and slow. There will be pictures later, probably, but right now he doesn't care.

When the kiss ends, Syusuke murmurs against his lips, "I love you so much."

"I know."

"No. I don't think you do." He hears the door open, people talking. He steps away.

"Maybe not."

* * *

><p>- 4<p>

His manager had decided it would be good publicity to have it seem like all three of them were dating. Syusuke's debut album was coming out and Atobe was filming his new movie. And Ryoma. Well, he was still playing matches. Like always.

It's hell, at first. He can't stand_ I have more awards then you do _Atobe Keigo (a mutual feeling) and Syusuke can't stand them not standing each other. So he does something about it.

* * *

><p>2<p>

He wonders, if maybe love isn't supposed to be like this.

If you start out as three separate shards of glass then fit your pieces to become something resembling a mirror, then what happens when one of the pieces won't stay still? Won't just let things be okay?

Do you become what you were before, or try to make something new?

* * *

><p>4<p>

"Your fingers are long."

The lines of Keigo's mouth bend upwards. He's reading a Psychology book. Or pretending to, at least.

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Shut up." He ducks his head to hide his flush. He's twenty one fucking years old and he's still blushing. Ridiculous. "Tell me something."

"What do you want to know?"

_Anything,_ he wants to say. _Your favorite season, what hand you prefer to use, if family is the most important thing in the world to you._ But he doesn't. He can't.

"Nothing."

/

He likes to sleep in the crook of Keigo's neck, just close enough to hear his pulse. Sometimes it's early morning when he'll whisper, "I don't know what to do anymore."

And he'll hear something like, "I think that's the point."

Maybe it isn't supposed to make sense.

* * *

><p>7<p>

Maybe_ fuck me_ sounds like _I miss him_ and _I love you _sounds like _I love him, too_ and maybe what they have is nothing, but this is all he has.

This is all he's got.

* * *

><p>- 3<p>

It was all gin and three pairs of everything and Ryoma trying to fit in with them because both of them were so gorgeous and more then he could ever hope to be.

Some things start off wrong and end wrong.

* * *

><p>5<p>

Sometimes when you grow up, you lose the passion for the things that you loved as a kid.

Tennis used to light something up inside of him. Used to carry him on when he was angry and depressed and people couldn't stand him any longer. It used to make him important.

But, the truth is, he isn't the best. He has never been. And he doesn't owe the world anything. There is no fine to pay for living. He's good enough as he is.

* * *

><p>-2<p>

"- NEVER BEEN TO JAIL BECAUSE I NEVER GET CAUGHT."

Keigo is staring, chewing on his bottom lip. His lips are always cracked this early in the morning. "Why?"

"We shall never know." He shakes his head. But Syusuke ignores them, moving his fingers in weird patterns while he twirls around the living room. His voice is lower then usual (a side effect of morning), but still amazing. His dance moves, on the other hand, are not.

"GO SELL THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO THE HEART."

"Honey, darling. Please stop."

Syusuke grins and turns the TV up louder. Ryoma snorts into his blanket; yells when his boyfriend takes him by the hand and starts jumping up and down.

"No."

"I AM LOVING YOU MORE." Syusuke blares in his ear, and somehow he's laughing. Standing there, but laughing. Because this is his life. It really is.

"I'm going back to bed." Keigo says. And leaves.

* * *

><p>-1<p>

There's always someone who doesn't believe they should be there (Ryoma), there is always someone who wants a little more attention (Keigo) and someone who has to, wants to, hold them all together.

(Syusuke)

* * *

><p>10<p>

The venue is packed. Most of the people are laughing, fooling around. But some of them have their guitars out, singing the songs they're about to hear performed.

Ryoma relaxes a little when Keigo's hand presses into the small of his back. It's nice.

Someone calls his name and he turns. Marui is all glitter eye shadow and tousled hair. Probably from letting his girlfriend play with it. It reminds him of how much time he's missed.

Wow.

"Hey," He grins. Ryoma returns it.

"Yo."

"It's been awhile, stranger." His friend bumps his elbow into his softly. Because that's just the kind of person Marui is.

"I know. I - We," He corrects, leaning into Keigo's shoulder. "Just wanted to talk to Syusuke for a bit."

"Totally." Marui nods, and they're weaving in the crowd, into the back door that puts them right in front of the dressing room. He can hear the la la la's and oh's before they even go inside.

Syusuke is laughing, before he spots them. His hair is shorter, eyes less tired, maybe.

"Hey." Ryoma says. And everyone kind of - stills.

"I have to go somewhere that's not here." Momo slides out, patting Fuji's head. Niou just makes a face and follows him out the door.

"So."

"Yeah."

They all look at each other. Then, Syusuke laughs. But more like, he can't think of anything else to do. "This is so fucking weird. I haven't see you both in months. I used to think I'd spend the rest of my life with you."

Before, Ryoma would have gotten stuffy, because Syusuke is looking at Keigo when he says. But it's _you_ as in _them_. It's always been them.

"I don't know what's going to happen. But we do want to talk." He turns to his boyfriend. "Right?"

Keigo nods. "Of course."

It takes Syusuke awhile. He strums his guitar softly. Blinks. Finally - "Go ahead, then. Talk."


End file.
